Donald pulled away from the shore and signaled the two of them to settle back into their seats. He throttled forward, and they shot into the channel.
The mouth of the river provided a panoramic view of the lake ahead. The sun was low on the horizon, and the sky spread blue color from one side of the tea-colored water to the other. Emily tried to tie her hair back into a ponytail, but the wind whipped it free. She gave up struggling with the strands and welcomed the feel of the cooling breeze blowing through it. She’d cautioned Naomi to wear long sleeves and trousers against the bugs, but now, with the sun climbing into the cloudless sky, she wished the two of them had on shorts and light shirts. Emily rolled up her sleeves and let the wind evaporate the perspiration from her bare arms. When she turned her head to see how Naomi was faring, she saw that her daughter had removed her shirt and had a sleeveless tee underneath.
Donald said something to her, but she couldn’t make out his words above the sound of the motor. He throttled back a bit.
“Ahead, around this bend and toward that sand bar, we’ll drop our lines.”
Emily saw other boats in the main channel of the river, their lines out, and men pulling in fish. “Why not around here?” she asked. “Seems everyone is catching something in the open water.” She wasn’t comfortable with the idea they should tuck themselves away from the other boats, where no one could see them.
“This is my secret spot. Only I know about it. It’s a honey of a fishing hole,” he said. Pride shone through his usual emotionless tone.
He piloted the craft around the bend, throttled down more, and steered sharp right so that the trees, reeds, and cattail along the bank obscured them from the other boats in the channel.
Donald tossed out the anchor and helped Emily and Naomi set up the lines. “Now all we have to do is wait,” he said and settled back in his seat.
Not a breeze caught them in their hideaway. Sweat began to track its way down Emily’s face and onto her chin. Naomi appeared to be sleeping with her head resting in her hand. Donald remained motionless. A half hour passed and nothing moved on the bank nor in the water.
“If there are fish here,” Emily said, “they’re all asleep.”
Donald shook his head and signaled her with a “shush.” Another fifteen minutes went by. Naomi took heavy breaths, almost snores, and Donald’s head dipped. Emily wiped the perspiration from her upper lip and wondered why she was sitting in the middle of a body of water which seemed devoid of life unless one counted the gators which were keeping a low profile this morning.
“Something on your right-hand line,” said Donald. “Play it in easy like.”
Emily did what he suggested but the line didn’t move.
“How big is this damn fish?” she asked. “I can hardly pull him toward the boat.” Emily tugged harder and kept the line taut. To her delight, she saw a shadow under water and then it broke the surface alongside the boat.
“Must be a big bass,” said Donald. He got out of his seat and worked his way back to where Emily was sitting.
“What ya got there?” he asked. He leaned toward the water and squinted his eyes to get a better look at her catch. “Well, you wouldn’t know the kind of fish, would you? Pull ‘er over here, so I can see.”
“You’re wrong. I know what I’ve got here,” she said, looking down into the water at the line next to the boat. “It’s a hand.”
CHAPTER 12
“I hate to do this, Donald, but you’ll have to come with me to my office. There are some questions you’ll need to answer,” Lewis said.
Green, Emily, Naomi, and the detective stood at the boat ramp several yards from a crowd of fishermen now more curious about Emily’s catch than their own. Several police vehicles encircled the ramp, keeping the nosy spectators at a distance. Emily could see the lights of an ambulance and additional police cars surrounding the bank of Donald’s secret fishing hole down river.
“Me. Why me?” asked Green. “She found the damn thing.” He gestured toward Emily. “And she’s already involved in one murder.”
And just when I was beginning to think kindly of him. Emily guzzled water from a thermos some kind spectator handed her when she couldn’t get her hiccups under control. She took a tentative breath. All over for now.
“No one said this was murder,” Lewis said. “But there is the issue of that blood found in your boat. The lab says it’s human. Let’s go.”
Green eyed him with suspicion, then his glance swept through the crowd of fellow fishermen, many of whom he knew. Emily suspected Green would want this conversation private. He nodded at Lewis, and the two men headed toward the police car.
This time, thought Emily with some pleasure, she wasn’t the one under suspicion. She looked at her watch and noticed she had only minutes to get to the course.
“So can I go now?” she called to Lewis’ retreating back.
He stopped and walked over to her. “You don’t seem very curious about the identity of our victim,” said Lewis.
Emily turned her back on the ambulance, then shifted around to look across the river, anything to avoid seeing the body being transported from the rescue boat. “It’s too grisly. I’d prefer not thinking about it. Besides, I don’t mean to sound callous, but everyone I know and care about is accounted for,” said Emily. “So, how about it? Can we go?”
“I need a statement from you and your, uh, friend.” Lewis’ gaze traveled to Naomi who was leaning against the bumper of Donald’s truck.
Emily’s shoulders slumped. She was spending more time being questioned by the police than she was working. “I’ve got a job I have to get to. You might as well question me there. By now everyone at the course is familiar with police interrogations in the club house.”
Lewis nodded his agreement. “How about . . ?” He gestured with his head toward Naomi.
“My daughter. It’s a long story and one you don’t need to know about. I’m going to have her drive me there and take the car back home. She’s exhausted. This was her first fishing trip, and no one liked the catch.”
Emily turned on her heel, slipped her arm around Naomi’s waist, and directed her toward the car. Her daughter felt as limp as a Raggedy Ann doll missing most of its stuffing.
On the way out of the parking area, Emily changed her mind and turned toward home instead of the course. She berated herself for letting her curiosity about Donald Green overwhelm her better judgment. It was foolish to be out on the water with him alone. What was he doing, taking them to that spot and letting Emily latch onto his most recent victim? Showing off? Although he had used his cell to put in a call to the police right away. Maybe it was a coincidence that the body floated where he usually fished. The man confused the hell out of her.
Emily looked across at her daughter. Naomi leaned against the passenger window and said not a word the entire ride. As they pulled through the security gate, she sat up in the seat. “I thought we were going to the course.”
“This has been a shock, especially after what your husband did to you. You need rest. I’ll be home . . .” Emily paused. When would she be home? How long would they question Donald? And what if they arrested him? She’d be working the bar alone until closing tonight. “I’ll be home when I can. I’ll go in with you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Emily knew she needed a little time to recover from the morning’s unpleasant surprise, but she grabbed her daughter’s hand to lead her into the house. To her surprise, Naomi laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and leaned into her. “I hope that’s not how fishing is usually done around here,” she said.
The sight of Darren on the couch watching television seemed to perk her up.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Emily said.
“Nah. Got too much on my mind. Wow. You two look like someone ran over you. What’s up?”
Emily explained how their fishing expedition went wrong.
“So who was it?” he asked.
“I don’t think the body
was in any shape to be identified then,” Emily said. A shiver ran down her back as she remembered the sight of the bluish white hand on the end of her line.
“Oh, yeah,” said Darren. “I’ll bet the gators got to it.”
Naomi’s jaw dropped, and her face turned white. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sorry, Naomi. I wasn’t thinking. It must have been awful for you,” Darren said. He got off the couch and came over to pat her arm.
“It’s okay. I need some rest.” Naomi gave them a tiny smile and headed down the hall toward the bedroom.
“I’ve got to run to work. Could you keep an eye on her while you’re here?” Emily asked Darren.
She scurried around the bar, wiping spots from the glassware, checking the tap lines, and slicing up lemons and limes. She noted with satisfaction that Donald had sharpened the bar knife, and it cut the fruit easily.
Lenny stuck his head through the doorway. “Open yet? I need a quick shot of Crown Royal.”
“Sure. This is the first time I’ve seen you in here in the morning.”
Lenny approached the bar and removed his sunglasses. He was sporting quite a shiner.
He caught her staring at his eye. “Lucinda. Yesterday. She’s very possessive about her golf instructors.”
Emily set a generous shot of whiskey on the bar in front of him. “Instructors? She’s had more than one?”
“Several months ago before you came here, she took a few lessons from our assistant pro, but she likes to be the center of attention. He had other students, and she wasn’t happy about that. Now she’s doing the same thing with me. She doesn’t seem to understand that I have to give everyone the same consideration I give her.” He grabbed the glass and threw the contents down his throat. “Hit me again.”
Emily poured him another shot, and he tossed that one away with equal dispatch, then waved goodbye. Through the bar windows, she could see him as he wheeled his golf cart out toward the driving range. The young woman who had fled from Lucinda’s wrath the day before was on the range hitting balls. She looked up at Lenny’s approach, and glanced at her cart. Lenny ran up to her and put out his arms as if to embrace her. Emily watched as the woman backed away from him, and Lenny pursued her to her cart. She shook her head at him, and sped off toward the club house.
Less than ten minutes later, Lenny reappeared in the bar and asked for another shot.
“Do you think that’s wise?” asked the assistant pro, Mike Graham, who had followed Lenny into the bar. “You’re booked with lessons for the remainder of the morning and into early afternoon.”
“You take ‘em,” said Lenny. He planted himself on the barstool in front of Emily.
“Fine, but you’ll have to mind the pro shop then,” said Mike.
“Righto. I’ll be here when you need me.”
By noon, after helping himself to the bar wares, Lenny could no longer hold himself upright on the stool, and Emily had to call his wife to pick him up.
“This is wonderful,” Emily said to Mike. “You and I are the only ones working here aside from kitchen staff and two waitresses.”
“I’ll see if I can rearrange lessons, but if I can’t, you’ll have to take over the counter at the shop when I’m on the range.”
“I can’t do that. I’m the only one on the bar,” Emily said.
But there was no choice. Emily ran between the bar and the pro shop, and Mike shuttled back and forth from the range to the shop. Emily managed a quick call home to check on Naomi after the lunch crowd.
“That you, Darren? Your voice sounds funny.”
“Do you know anyone with a brown Mercedes sedan?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
“It’s been driving by here all morning. Must have passed more than five or six times. I thought maybe a friend of yours looking for you, but didn’t stop when they noticed your car was gone.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. Whoever’s in it would have to have a gate card to get into the community.” The line for the pro shop rang. “Wait a second,” said Emily. “Mike. Would you get that? I’m on the other line.” But the phone kept ringing. “Darren, honey, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you again when I get a chance. But Naomi’s fine, right?”
“Right,” said Darren. There was no conviction in his voice.
“Darren?”
“No, she’s sleeping. She’s okay. I’m . . . Never mind. See you later.” Darren hung up, and Emily hit the button for the bar line.
By three o’clock there was a lull in golfers needing carts, food, or drinks, and Emily leaned against the counter at the pro shop. Both she and Mike were exhausted.
“Does Lenny drink like this often?” she asked Mike.
“I’ve never seen him do it before, but I can attest to how unnerving Mrs. Davey can be when she demands attention. I considered quitting my job here when she hit on me earlier this season,” said Mike.
“Hit on you?”
“She was interested in more than smoothing out her swing,” said Mike. “And Lenny seemed to encourage her. But then Lenny has a habit of encouraging all the women.”
“I guess her performance yesterday put him over the edge.”
“That and Lenny’s gambling issues.” Mike straightened up a rounder of golf clothing.
“He gambles?”
“He’s always over at the casino on his days off and lately he’s been taking calls here that sound as if he owes money to someone. But you never heard it from me,” said Mike.
The phone rang. Emily saw the bar line light up. “Now what?”
“It’s me,” said a masculine voice. It was one Emily had forgotten about during the rush of the work at the course.
“Mr. Green. I hope this call isn’t to invite me and my daughter on another fishing adventure. We had all we could handle this morning. In fact, she’s home in bed in a state of shock.”
“You’re testy today, now aren’t you? Why blame me if someone saw fit to pollute my fishing hole with a floater?”
“Donald, get your sorry butt in here. I’ve been running around all morning and afternoon trying to keep up with the bar and the pro shop while you’ve been exchanging fishing stories with the local gendarmes.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Emily thought for a minute he’d hung up on her. She really didn’t believe he’d been responsible for the corpse she’d snagged, but she was enraged that whatever the police thought he was involved in, he had left her short-handed today of all days.
“And then you have the nerve to suggest Lewis question me instead of you because you believe I had a hand in Davey’s death. If you want this job, you’d better get out here. Now.”
“I took that job to help you out. I don’t need it, and I might give it up if you take this attitude every time a little something goes wrong in your life.”
Emily hung up on him.
“Donald coming in?” asked Mike.
“I doubt it.”
A brrrring of the phone and the bar line lit up once more. Emily grabbed it off the cradle and pressed it to her ear. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. She assumed it was Donald calling back.
“It’s me, Emily. Clara.”
Donald appeared fifteen minutes after she received the call from Clara. Much as she wanted to fire him on the spot, she didn’t. He took up his position behind the bar, and she told him she’d be back when she got back.
“And if you don’t get back here tonight?” he asked.
“Close up.” She tossed he keys to him. “Be careful taking out the trash.”
“Oh, right. Never can tell what I’ll find of interest to the local police.” He chuckled in his sardonic way.
“There’s an old gator likes to sit behind the dumpster looking for someone to get to close it. But then, that shouldn’t be a problem for you. You’re a real gator wrestler, aren’t you?”
“All you’d have to do was glance his way, and the look on your face would scare him into the next
county,” Donald said.
She turned on him, and he held up his hands as if to fend off her attack. “Leave me alone. It’s been a bad day,” she said.
“You think I like sitting in an eight by ten room sharing crummy coffee with a detective who has one murder and another suspicious death on his hands, and who’s trying to tie them together, maybe with me as the suspect?”
“I’ve been there. Remember? Leave the keys on the counter, set the alarm, and put the automatic lock on the door when you leave. Lenny will open up tomorrow. That is, if he’s not too hung over.”
When she pulled into the jail parking lot, Clara stood at the door to the building waiting for her. Emily got out of the car, and the two women hugged, an embrace that neither of them wanted to end. She stepped back and looked into Clara’s face. Her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her rumpled clothing looked dirty and hung loosely on her body. Emily vowed to pamper her, to do anything she could to put the zing back in Clara’s step.
“They finally got smart and dropped the charges, did they? Not enough evidence? Motive a little weak?” asked Emily.
Clara threw a small paper bag with her possessions in it into the back seat of Emily’s car. “We’ll talk law later. Let’s get out of here. I want to go home and take a hot shower. And I especially want to shave my legs,” said Clara. “How’s Darren?”
“He’s fine, I guess. He’s babysitting my daughter today until he leaves for work, so I’ll drop you by your house and head right home.” She explained the discovery of the body in the river to Clara.
“That poor child,” said Clara. “An abusive husband and a corpse all in the space of a week. Watch it.” Lewis’ police cruiser pulled into the lot blocking their way out.
Emily stuck her head out of the car window. “Detective Lewis,” she said, “we’d appreciate your moving out of our way. Clara’s got an important meeting with a bubble bath now that the police have come to their senses and released her.”
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